


A Thousand Years Ago

by wefewwehappyfew



Series: Ghosts that we knew [3]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, You thought I wasn't going to write that scene didn't you?, but not here, cute will come soon, overdose of feelings over this pair I tell you
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-18
Updated: 2017-02-18
Packaged: 2018-09-25 09:53:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,101
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9814064
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wefewwehappyfew/pseuds/wefewwehappyfew
Summary: A journey that ends in blood, and another that starts in despair.





	

“Come back with me.”

“I cannot.”

Alfred wants to scream. It is like a thousand hooks tearing at his heart, finally finding Helena after all this time and then again she says no. He thought she loved him, and she had said so. But when she disappeared, running away with her mother’s diadem before their bethrotal was made public, his heart broke.

He became a different man, with all his worst traits flourishing, or so that was what everyone said. Then again, the only woman he had ever loved had abandoned him.

Her mother’s need to see her one last time gave him a perfect excuse to find her, and that was what he did. Following her steps from France, to Al-Andalus, to the Republic of Venice and then to Albania. And finally, to a place that the locals had started to call  _pylli i zonjë gri._ **The forest of the Grey Lady**.

And there she stood before him. Changed, with all her softness stripped away from her. But still so beautiful the mere sight of her took his breath away again, after all this time.

“But _why_?” He finally manages to ask

“Because I know her, and I know you.” she says “And if I ever return I will lose all what I have now. My happiness and my freedom.”

Every word hurts like an expertly delivered blow that Alfred does not want to receive.

“How can you say this?” he tries his best to hold the tears and the anger. “How can you say this when you know I would give the world for your happiness?”

Helena does  not mean this, she truly does not mean this. She simply is scared for what her mother would try to do in retaliation for the stolen diadem. But he would protect her come the moment. He loves her too much to see her hurt again.

“Then let me stay here!” she cries out and it surprises him. “Let me stay here and if you want, visit me from time to time, because I appreciate your company. But I will not return. Here I am happy.”

“But you would not need to stay with your mother, Helena.” he tries to explain as he approaches her “You could be happy by my side in England too. I would let you pursue all the knowledge you wanted. I would bring the greatest witches and wizards from the four corners of the world so they could share their knowledge with you. I…”

“Are you listening to yourself?” she cuts as she steps back. “ _I would let you_. You would let **_me_**? I am not yours to order around, Alfred.  I spent enough time under the thumb of a mother that was so scared of the blood of my father coming through that she tried to fashion me to her liking. I will not sacrifice my freedom to become the meek and obedient servant of another that shall try to make me what I am not.”

Managing to control the need to make her stop (he does not want to hurt her. Not her.), he instead wants to reach for her, and make her understand. But how when he is understanding so little himself? Why mention her father now when she had never wanted to do so? When she did not know?

Helena must have quite imagined what he is thinking, because she speaks. “Oh, but didn’t my mother tell you? My father, even if he could not be considered as one because he cared naught for me, was Salazar Slytherin.”

It comes like a shock to him, and now he is the one to step backwards.

“I did not know until I finally used my mother’s diadem. Strangely enough, it brings not only intellectual knowledge, but knowledge of all kinds. Even the one that no one told you about but you have buried deep within your blood.”

There she stays before him, the child of two of Hogwarts’ Founders. Every bit her mother. But every bit her father too. It brings him such a sense of awe that he falls to his knees, holding her hands and burying his face on hers until she forces him to stand up.

“Don’t do this.” She cups his cheek gently. “I haven’t run away from their legacies to find my most beloved friend kneeling before me as a reminder of them.”

“But we could do so much together, Helena.” he must convince her. “You were destined for great things, and you could do so much more than… this.”

She retires her hand. “I am happy doing this. Not being Ravenclaw or Slytherin’s daughter. Being simply Helena.”

“Being the _Grey Lady_?” He asks, in a more cutting tone than intended, and all the warmth disappears from her demeanour.

“Being useful. Pursuing all the knowledge I want while I help everyone, no matter the kind of blood that runs through their veins. Magical, muggle, noble or peasant, I make no distinctions.” She almost spits at him, the very epitome of fury. “At least it is a better legacy than murdering and torturing those who inconvenience you in getting what you want. Or isn’t it, _Bloody Baron_?”

The next moment, she is lying on the floor, her hand covering her  cheek as she looks at him in horror. He tries to reach for her, but she flinches at his touch, and reaches for her wand just in case.

“Leave me.” She says, retiring her gaze from him “I will tell you where her diadem is but I will not go with you. Nor I want to see you again.”

“Helena, I am sorry, I…” He tries to reach for her but she stands up, and steps backwards, away from him.

“I thought you were my friend. I thought you were better than this.” She begins, as cold and cutting as she can. “That you loved me as much as you claimed you did and you would leave me alone. But no. You have turned out to be as pathetic as everyone said you were, hiding in your power and resorting to violence to make people cater to your every whim. I wish I had never approached you that day.”

But the next moment they are close, almost in an embrace, and she kisses him. Her lips taste of blood, and his hand is soaked in it.

Helena smiles before her eyes close and she falls in his arms.

—–

Dying is not as terrible as Helena thought it would be.

In fact, it is strangely peaceful. Not even Alfred’s anger, or her own worries matter now. That is why she kisses him. That is why her hand lingers on his cheek.

Because this is a goodbye. 

Her eyes start closing. She feels weak, She just wants to sleep.

But it seems that she will not even be allowed that. Because not just a moment later, she wakes up to see Alfred crying over her dead body.

Helena is a ghost and she wants to scream. Not even in death she would be allowed freedom.Not even in death would she be allowed peace.

But she cannot cry, she cannot do anything. She cannot even touch him to make her realise she is there. She can only watch, helpless, as Alfred begs for her forgiveness. 

And yet there is a part of her that does not want to forgive him, and it only grows stronger with each moment that passes. Her life was not his to take and condemn her for eternity. The peace she had mere moments ago is changing for anger and sadness.

(She would never admit that part of her sadness is due to his. If she admitted it, she would hate herself even more than what she does already.)

Still, she stops for a moment to observe him as he stands up, and there is something strangely tender in the way he picks up her corpse and takes her to her bed, as if she were his bride. He places her there with outmost care and presses a kiss to her brow before laying by her side, fully clothed except for the chainmail he had worn before and now is laid on the floor.

Alfred caresses her cheek and rests his head on her shoulder.

“I am sorry, Helena.” He whispers “I shouldn’t have done this. I shouldn’t have done this. Oh Merlin… And now I have lost you. You were right, I am nothing but a monster. I am so sorry…”

Despite her better judgement and her anger, she ends up going to his side, managing to sit without slipping through the floor or anything, and places a hand on his shoulder. She even manages to somehow end up touching his cheek, even if he doesn’t notice it. 

(She wonders if she is truly a ghost. Maybe not all ghosts can actually be seen. It would be a fate even worse than what she thought at first.)

“If I had only listened…” his words are choked by the tears “If I had only listened…”

 _If any of them had listened._

But **none** did. 

The man whose blood she shared (she refused to call him _father_ anymore), didn’t listen to the girl who displayed the same traits of ambition and cunning he valued so much. After all, she would never be good enough.

The woman who gave her birth, her mother, did not listen when Helena said _Teach me how to be as brilliant and wise as you,_ thinking instead that she could fashion her into the perfect daughter, the perfect sucessor that would not question any of the choices that were made for her. But she turned out to not be good enough.

Those who taught her, and those who studied by her side and that expected a second Rowena. Brilliant, and wise and beautiful. But alas, she was only Helena, a little weed standing in the shadow of the Tree of Paradise. And when they realised that, they did not listen because she was not good enough.

The man before her, the one she had known since they were children. Her Alfred. Her most beloved friend. The boy who was as lonely as she was. The man who had claimed to love her more than anything in this world but had killed her. She had loved him too. But neither of them listened to each other.

And they turned into shadows of what they were. Of what they could have been. No longer Alfred and Helena, but The Bloody Baron and The Grey Lady.

If Helena could, she would cry in this very moment, but alas, either ghosts cannot cry, or she is too numb in her new state to express any kind of emotions.

She doesn’t regret running away, though. She will never regret it. She has done much, and a lot of it good. Things that she could not have done if she had stayed. But if only she could have…

_If only, if only, if only…_

Her whole existence has been, is and probably will be a constant string of if onlys.

Helena’s gaze turns to Alfred again, who caresses her corpse’s cheek. She watches as his hand descends to her chest and rests for a moment where her heart would have been beating before descending to under her right breast. 

His dagger is stuck there, between two of her ribs, even if she is quite sure there are more stab wounds.

(But why would they matter now?)

He removes it, though there is no more blood to follow, and observes it for a long moment.

_No. No. No._

He stabs himself in the same place where he last stabbed her and retires the dagger, throwing it away and letting the blood flow free.

In his last moments, he does the same as she did. He turns her face, leaving it stained with his blood, and he kisses her.

“Goodnight, my beloved friend.” he whispers before he closes his eyes.

It all becomes a whirlwind after that, and when she wakes up again, she is no longer in her hut in the forest, but in the corridors of a very familiar place.

Hogwarts.

Observing her, at a distance, is a very familiar face. A man who is now a ghost like her, and who carries chains. ( _”His own penance for what he did to you.”_ Aunt Helga would explain to her later.)

And for the first time, Helena lets herself sink and fall.

This was not supposed to end this way.

Not like this.

**Author's Note:**

> \- Of course I needed to write this. Because of reasons
> 
> \- Also, I apologise if the translation to Albanian is not correct, checked through several translators just in case but if you are a native speaker, please don’t hesitate to point out any mistakes!
> 
> \- Again a lot of it is me headcanoning, but really, you should be expecting this if you read any fanfic of mine. That and a penchant for complicated relationships. With excessive amounts of ouch in all the senses possible.
> 
> \- There might be another drabble coming because I need soothing of feelings though


End file.
